"God is ever present. He's in every breath, in every step. He's here, always, always"
About this Quote
Jill Scott’s line lands like a slow exhale: not doctrine, not argument, just a practiced intimacy with the divine. The repetition - “every breath, in every step” - shrinks God from a distant authority into a bodily rhythm. Breath and walking are the most ordinary, involuntary things we do; by tying presence to them, Scott makes spirituality less about belief and more about attention. It’s a move that fits her whole artistic lane: soul music as a place where the sacred isn’t separate from the day-to-day grind, where feeling is a kind of knowledge.
The subtext is reassurance with an edge. “He’s here, always, always” doesn’t just soothe; it pushes back against the modern impulse to treat faith as a Sunday accessory or a private hobby. The insistence of “always” reads like someone who has had to keep choosing that idea in the face of pressure, loss, or exhaustion. This is less “God is everywhere” in a greeting-card sense than “you are not abandoned,” a message that resonates in Black musical traditions where gospel sensibility and secular storytelling constantly trade instruments.
Contextually, it’s also a quiet reclamation. Scott isn’t performing piety for approval; she’s naming a relationship. By locating God in breath and steps, she places the holy inside the self and the body - a subtle counter to cultures that police whose bodies are safe, worthy, or heard. The line works because it’s concrete, rhythmic, and insistent: theology translated into muscle memory.
The subtext is reassurance with an edge. “He’s here, always, always” doesn’t just soothe; it pushes back against the modern impulse to treat faith as a Sunday accessory or a private hobby. The insistence of “always” reads like someone who has had to keep choosing that idea in the face of pressure, loss, or exhaustion. This is less “God is everywhere” in a greeting-card sense than “you are not abandoned,” a message that resonates in Black musical traditions where gospel sensibility and secular storytelling constantly trade instruments.
Contextually, it’s also a quiet reclamation. Scott isn’t performing piety for approval; she’s naming a relationship. By locating God in breath and steps, she places the holy inside the self and the body - a subtle counter to cultures that police whose bodies are safe, worthy, or heard. The line works because it’s concrete, rhythmic, and insistent: theology translated into muscle memory.
Quote Details
| Topic | God |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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